


Self Defense

by somekindofseizure



Series: WTID Supplemental Reading [11]
Category: The Fall (TV 2013), The X-Files
Genre: Femslash, UST, WTID
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 15:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11809275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somekindofseizure/pseuds/somekindofseizure
Summary: Anonymous asked:So I'm a little drunk and I'm wondering if over the years in all of their girls weekends, have Stella and Scully ever gotten a bit drunk and handsy? Before Scully and Mulder were officially over that is.





	Self Defense

“Don’t make fun, it’s serious,” Scully says and she can feel her Ss slipping from the tenuous grasp she holds onto diligently through one, two, three glasses of wine.  She’s in a pair of pajama shorts and a tank top and she was previously cold and irritated by the lack of temperature control in their room but the current activity has her warmed up.  “It’s the 90s and women are strong and we need to defend ourselves.”

Stella – Ssstella – laughs inaudibly from her belly as Scully pokes at her shoulders and between her ribs, play-parrying.  Stella is still fully dressed, her tolerance for bra straps and zippers twice as high as her tolerance for alcohol and that is also pretty high.  

“So far I’m not impressed with what you’ve learned,” she says.

“I’m not showing you right,” Scully laughs.

“So fucking show me,” Stella taunts, frees her wrists from Scully’s grasp and somehow gets her into a fake chokehold.  “How do they teach you to get out of this?”

“A g—“ Scully laughs so hard her weight falls forward into Stella’s elbow, effectively choking herself.

“That’s not a good technique at all,” Stella teases as Scully cough-laughs at her failure.  She really does take her self defense course seriously, really does, she reminds herself, really really… can’t stop laughing.

“I get my g—“

Stella’s voice goes up like she knows what Scully’s trying to say and it’s absurd.  

“Your what?  Your gun?”

Scully fleetingly worries about the neighbors hearing them, calling the cops on them, pulling her badge in pajama shorts with cartoon polar bears on them when they arrive.  

“What the fuck are you talking about?  How are you gonna get to your gun?”

Stella clumsily wrestles her to the wall and Scully finally wiggles free and then trips over the shoes she left by the bed.

“Ow –“

“Ooh, sorry –“

“Heeey, I want to watch this movie,” she whines as Stella helps her up off the floor and nearly falls backward.  Whitney Houston is dancing with Kevin Costner and they’re paying the hotel ten bucks for it and she’s not even getting to see it.

“I wanted the other film.”

“That’s not a film, that’s porn, you pervert,” Scully says and tackles her at the waist, rushes her to the bed.  Stella crawls backward on her elbows, worming away toward the headboard and Scully tries to attach a grip to her pants, her shirt, whatever she can reach.

“Oh dear.  This is pathetic.  I want to talk to your instructor.”

Scully grunts, scrambling up the bed to meet Stella.

“I’m going to need this one day,” Stella says.  “And I’ll be fucked because you couldn’t teach me shit.”

Scully ignores her and blows a hair out of her face as she finally mounts Stella, looks down proudly as she straddles her.  Stella’s hips are warm, no hot, shockingly hot between her thighs, and the sensation gives her pause as she pins Stella’s wrists by her face.  She’s got her now.

“Don’t worry,” Scully says and she realizes she got that from somewhere, somewhere recent, where was it. Oh yeah, the movie.  What was it?  “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

And then it’s quiet except for some singing behind her and neither of them is laughing and Scully feels less drunk or a different kind of drunk, all heat and pressure, a sliding weight on a scale. Stella’s belly rises and falls on each breath and she knows she should lift herself up a little so as not to notice such things, but she doesn’t.

“I thought you were attacking me,” Stella says.  “Now you’re protecting me?”

“I lost track,” Scully says entranced.  Stella cocks her head against the pillow like a trigger, waiting to see what’ll come next. Scully leans forward, watching Stella’s mouth like a target, following the tongue that circles her top lip thoughtfully.  She has twice as much liquor in her and she waits for Scully to get pretty far down there, face just inches from her, but then she says what someone has to say because it’s not apparently going to be Scully and it’s not going to be Whitney Houston or Kevin Costner and so it has to be her, enough wine in her to get pulled over just for looking at a car.

“You’re drunk, Scully.”

“I know,” Scully whispers, but then it sinks further in and settles somewhere right in the pit of her stomach where desire and guilt make odd bedfellows.  She sits up and backs herself away onto the mattress, turns to put her feet on the floor. “I know.”

“It’s fine.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

Scully rubs her forehead and stands up, pours herself a glass of water.

“Just go to sleep so I can watch porn and jack off.”

Scully spit takes her water and coughs.  Stella reaches for the remote and hits stop on the Bodyguard, twirls her hair as she holds the remote at attention.

“You’re serious,” Scully marvels, feeling the water gargle with her awe and giggles in equal parts at the back of her throat.  “Oh my God.”

“Go to bed.”


End file.
